Sinking
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: She had lost her best friend and her heart all in one afternoon, and the feeling of emptiness was shattering her to pieces. The missing six months from Lisbon's POV, and one chapter from Jane's, spoilers for 4x24, "Crimson Red Hat", slight J/L.
1. Chapter 1 Possibility

**Sinking**

**A Mentalist Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Disclaimer:**

**I own nothing. If I did, I don't even want to think about what the Mentalist would look like.**

**A****uthor's Note:**

**This story will be about six or seven parts, with the middle one from Jane's POV. I was inspired to do this when Donnamour1969 mentioned something about the missing six months in her fabulous tag to the fabulous season 4 finale of the Mentalist. I wasn't going to write it, but then I was listening to music while I brushed my teeth the night after the finale and "Possibility" by Lykke Li, and I knew I had to write something. . . even though to my immense shame – all I could see was Lisbon in a very Bella-like position (you know, the scene where she's depressed after Edward left, I'm not a Twilight fan, but that scene has always gotten to me, especially because it's so beautifully filmed.)**

**Anyways, this is mostly from Lisbon's POV because as a fellow woman, I felt like I could write her introspective more than Jane's. I know how I would feel if a man I cared about left me for six months without a word of how he was or what he was doing. I mean, I felt like I could feel what she felt in that church scene. **

**One more thing, each part is based on a song. The first one is, of course, "Possibility" because it's what inspired this whole story in the first place. The second one is Diana Krall's version of "Accustomed to His Face" (note, the male version will make an appearance in a future series of stories), number 3 is "Without You" by the Cranberries. **

**Now, onto the story. **

**P.S**

**The title comes from "Without You" by the Cranberries.**

**.**

**Chapter 1 Possibility **

_Tell me when you hear me falling_

_There's a possibility it wouldn't show_

_He's gone, he's gone, he's gone. . ._

The words were stuck in Teresa Lisbon's head like the first few lyrics of an annoying pop song. She sighed and stared out the window at the impending thunderstorm. She wrapped her fingers around her mug and took a sip of tea before spitting it back into the cup, it had grown cold while she had sat on the couch and looked into space. She had lost her best friend and her heart all in one afternoon, and the feeling of emptiness was shattering her to pieces.

Lisbon took a deep breath and rubbed her cold hand on her thigh, twisting the gray sweatpants in a knot as she tried to imagine what life without Patrick Jane would be like. All she could see was countless unclosed cases and a void that was so large, she didn't think anybody else would be able to fill it. Not for a long while anyways.

She paused a beat before putting her mug on the coffee table and grabbing her cell phone from the ottoman; she punched in Jane's speed dial number and waited for his soothing, assuring voice to come over the line while she listened to the long shrill of the ring. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

She sighed into the phone. "Hey. . . it's me again. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Call me back if you are or, you know, if you aren't. If you'd let me help, we could get through this together. I'm here for you Patrick; I just wish that you would realize that. Anyways. . . call me."

The first clap of thunder filled the air just as she clicked off; it was followed by lighting that illuminated her whole living room, and a torrential downpour. Lisbon swung her legs over the couch and pulled her throw blanket down, pulling it over her head to block out the lights and the sounds as she fell into a restless sleep.

That night she dreamed about Jane, every single time she got close enough to say something to him. . . to touch him, he would run away, leaving her to chase after him again as she called out his name desperately, begging him to let her help him.

It wasn't until she realized that she was running in circles that she stopped running, falling to her knees and clutching her chest as she broke down into hopeless tears, feeling completely and utterly lost.

**.**

Lisbon woke up with a start, it was still pouring buckets outside and she was tangled up in her blanket, her clothes and hair sticking to her because she was so sweaty. She threw the cover off and lifted her t-shirt, a blast of air hitting her bare stomach and causing little goose prickles to raise on her skin.

She lifted her hair off her neck and closed her eyes again, trying to relax and shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

But it all came rushing back to her in a five cruel seconds, Jane had left and he was ignoring her. She turned on her stomach, ignoring the ache in her back and the crick in her neck as she buried her face into the armrest and closed her eyes. She decided that she would stay this way forever, letting the seconds and the minutes turn into hours until she forgot everything, including who she was and who Patrick Jane was.

She knew this wasn't who she really was, that she was acting completely out of character, but for that brief moment, she didn't care. Even strong woman were allowed to mourn and feel the loss of somebody dear to them.

There was a knock on her door, she buried her face deeper into the armrest, determined to ignore the person when the knock came again, a little more persistent this time. A thought occurred to her that her unexpected visitor could be Jane. With that in mind, she sat up and slid off the couch, padding to the door as quickly as possible.

She didn't care that she probably looked completely unpresentable, all that mattered to her was that Jane was there and willing to talk to her. She flung the door open and pasted on the smile she reserved just for him, deflating quickly when she saw who was on the other side of it.

"Oh. . . it's you Van Pelt," she said, trying hard to mask her disappointment. "Come in, you're getting soaked."

"Hi!" The redhead said cheerfully, smiling as she followed Lisbon into the apartment as she pushed her wet hair from her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't things be okay?" Lisbon asked, going into the kitchen and pulling out a bag of coffee down from her cabinet.

"I'm fine," Van Pelt replied.

"You didn't answer my question," Lisbon said as she filled her coffee pot with water.

"Well, it is Friday afternoon and you aren't at work yet," Van Pelt replied, shrugging slightly. "And I'm sorry, but you don't look so good today."

"I had a rough night," Lisbon answered. "I'll be ready in ten minutes, I just need to shower and have some coffee."

"I'll make your coffee if you want to go and take a shower," Van Pelt offered. "Or if you don't feel up to it, I'll just tell the team and Wainwright that you aren't feeling well and you can take the day off."

The idea sounded tempting, actually it sounded _incredibly _tempting. But Lisbon wasn't the type of woman to hide away from the world, it didn't matter how she wanted to do it, or how bad she felt.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll be ready to go in a few minutes, okay?"

Van Pelt looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded slowly and went over to her boss, taking the coffee pot from her hands.

"Okay," she said. "If it's what you _really _want, but I'm going to make your coffee while you take a relaxing shower. I'll call Rigsby and have him tell Wainwright that we'll be in as soon as possible."

**.**

Lisbon made it to her bed that night, but she didn't sleep a wink. Instead she spent eight hours staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain outside her window as she sent text messages to Jane, and prayed that wherever he was that he was safe and warm.

**TBC. . .**

**Author's Note II:**

**Well, there's chapter one, I really hope that you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review. I should be updating every Wednesday until this story is finished. I'm just worried that this story is a little irrelevant since it's been about two months since the finale aired. Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter.**

**Until next time.**

**Love,**

**Holly, 7/11/2012_**


	2. Chapter 2 Accustomed To His Face

**Author's Note I: I had so much trouble NOT writing this chapter to the lyrics. It took huge amounts of restraint and days of writing it in portions. Believe me, it was a challenge, but I met it and beat it. Victory is mine!**

**Shout-Outs to: vanrigsby, AngryLittlePrincess, guest, MissDonnie, Guest (aka, my online BFF and fake sibling, Just Mosie), Brookie66, Donnamour1969, Lothlorien Aeterna, & Country2776. **

**Plus a huge thank you to the 13 people who put this story on alert and the three people who it into their favorites. You know who you are.**

**Warnings: Just my mistakes, there are plenty of misplaced commas. And just a little bit of angst. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all. If I did, I'd be wealthy and life would be beautiful. Or maybe not, because my mom says that my imagination is crazy. . . so, who knows what I would come up with for the show.**

**.**

**Chapter 2 Accustomed To His Face**

_His joys, his woes_

_His highs, his lows are second nature to me now_

**Accustomed To His Face, Diana Krall_**

It had been one month.

One month since Jane had gone away and she was still having a hard time adjusting to his absence from her life and around the CBI. Most mornings she walked into the bullpen, she expected to find him pretending to sleep on his worn out leather couch, or bugging her to death with facts about some obscure tribe in Africa that he had watched a documentary about on the Discovery Channel the night before.

She would have done anything to have him lazing around her office again while she filled out paperwork or made phone calls. She missed how he used to bring her coffee or coax her out to the CBI rooftop for lunch or an ice cream sundae when she had worked a little too hard or a little too long.

She didn't really miss the way that they rapidly closed cases with Jane; it was the million little things about him that she really missed. The things that had disappeared with him the day that the elevator doors had rolled shut and he had left her standing in the hallway all by herself.

Lisbon sighed and shook her head, trying to clear her mind of all things Jane for the moment and concentrate on the task at hand. But no matter how hard she tried, her heart just wasn't in playing Wii bowling with the rest of her team.

When nobody was looking, she pulled her cell phone out and sent another text message to Jane. She was becoming redundant and she'd have another huge bill to pay at the end of the month, but she didn't care anymore. All she cared about was getting through to Jane and bringing him home.

"Boss?" Cho asked.

"What is it?" She replied, stashing her cell phone under her knee and forcing herself to smile at him.

Cho frowned. "Are you okay? You seem out of it tonight."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm just a little tired; maybe I'll just call it an early night and go home."

"But we're beating Rigsby and Cho at 100 bowling!" Van Pelt protested. "Are you sure you won't stay a little longer?"

"I'm just not in the mood to play video games tonight," Lisbon said. "Next week though, I promise."

"You said that when you left early _last week_ though," Rigsby reminded her.

Lisbon knew it was true, and she felt bad abandoning them for a second week in a row. But she just didn't feel like pretending that she was having a good time when she was spending every moment worrying and thinking about Jane.

She stood and pasted on another smile. "Next week, I promise."

"Okay," Van Pelt agreed, smiling kindly at her boss as she shot the guys a look. "Have a good weekend boss, hopefully you'll get some much needed rest."

"Thanks," Lisbon answered wryly, pulling her jacket on and waving as she left them.

She had barely shut the door when she heard her team start discussing her in concerned, hushed tones. She drove away from Cho's apartments with the phrases _barely sleeping _and _probably not eating enough_ ringing in her ears.

Lisbon spent that weekend trying to catch up on housework or pretending to watch television. But like Friday night Wii with the team, she could barely concentrate on what she was doing. Her thoughts were always with Jane as dozens of unbidden scenarios rose to the front of her mind, making her fear the worse.

At night when she was in bed, the nightmares would start even before her eyes were closed. All she could see was Jane lying unconscious on a bathroom floor in a seedy hotel because he had drunk too much. As the night dragged on, the images went from bad to worse, Jane in jail, Jane bloodied up in a ditch somewhere in the middle of nowhere because he had crossed the wrong people, annoyed somebody a little too much they paraded in front of her mind, bringing her to her knees as she begged God to keep him safe wherever he was.

On Monday morning as she tried not to fall asleep in the shower, she decided that she hated spending weekends alone in her apartment.

It was much worse than being at work and having no choice but to keep busy.

**.**

"You want do what exactly Agent Lisbon?" Luther Wainwright asked.

"I want to working on weekends," Lisbon replied, rubbing her hands along her thighs and taking a shaky sip of coffee.

"You want to start working on weekends," Wainwright repeated. "This doesn't have something to do with Jane, does it?"

"No, of course this isn't about Jane!" Lisbon lied. "It's just. . . I have so much time on my hands these days and I'd like something to do with it."

"Don't you have a life, Agent Lisbon?" Wainwright asked.

_Not really, all I do these days is work and worry about Jane, _she thought. But she didn't voice this to her boss, she merely smiled and took another sip of coffee.

"I just need something more to do," she answered.

"But you barely take any time off as it is," Wainwright protested. "I really think you should keep your weekends—"

"Please sir!" Lisbon interjected, giving him her fiercest look. "You have to let me work weekends, I _need_ something to do or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Wainwright asked, looking at her with interest. "Have a nervous breakdown like Jane did?"

Lisbon frowned at his out of character remark. "No."

Wainwright sighed. "I'll have to clear it with director Bertram first, but if he says yes than I'll allow you to have more hours."

Lisbon sighed quietly, relief filling her to the brim at the reprieve of weekends alone. "Thank you."

"Will that be all?" Wainwright asked. "Or do you need to talk about anything else?"

"No," Lisbon answered, standing to go. "That will be all, thank you."

"What about Jane? Have you heard anything from him these days?"

Lisbon shook her head. No, I haven't heard anything from him."

Wainwright looked shocked. "You two have always seemed so close, I can't believe that he hasn't tried to get in touch with you."

"I guess it's just one of those things," Lisbon answered with a shrug as she gripped the door handle. "May I go now? I have some paperwork to fill out and I hate to let it sit any longer."

Wainwright nodded. "Of course. I'll get back to you on the work situation later."

"Thanks," Lisbon whispered, managing another fake smile as she left his office.

**TBC. . .**

**Author's Note:**

**To tell you the truth, I really struggled with this chapter and in the end; it didn't turn out the way that I wanted it to. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to hear what you thought about it. If you want to say anything, feel free to press the review button. If you must critique, please do it gently and respectfully. Thank you in advance. **

**Oh! And one more thing, just got this from my parents on Saturday. We might be taking a trip home at the beginning of September. So in two weeks, I will be posting two chapters. One on Wednesday and one on Thursday, because once the end of August comes we'll be in full on "get ready mode", which means I want to have this story basically complete by then.**

**Until next time!**

**Love,**

**Holly 7/17/2012_**

**P.S**

**This is a really lame excuse, but I've never written Wainwright's character before, so I'm not sure if I got him exactly right. I am sorry if he's not in character, I really did try.**


	3. Chapter 3 When You're Gone

**Shout-Outs: lisbonandjanealways, Brookie66, Lothlorien Aeterna, and the two guests who left reviews. Thanks for leaving reviews guys, they always make my day!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, **_**somewhere**_** in season 5, Jane and Lisbon would have a huge argument in his attic and it would end with them kissing. . . and I'm not talking about just any kind of kissing, I'm talking about them kissing **_**passionately**_**. **

**.**

**Chapter 3**

_And in the day everything's complex_

_There's nothing simple when I'm not around you_

**When You're Gone, the Cranberries_**

Three months had passed since Jane had gone away and instead of beginning to feel better, she had started to feel worse. He was still ignoring her calls and texts, she was probably only sleeping one night a week. . . if that. And to add insult to injury, she had found his turquoise tea cup when she was looking for a mug during her coffee break. She had gravitated towards it instantly, picking it up and sheltering it almost protectively in her hand, her coffee forgotten.

"Agent Lisbon, could I have a word?" Susan Darcy asked, starling her so much that she almost dropped Jane's cup.

"Of course," Lisbon answered, tucking the cup back into the cabinet where nobody would be able to find it. "Why don't we just go to my office and—"

"We can talk here," Darcy replied, leaning against the counter. "It's about Jane."

"Jane?" Lisbon repeated, frowning.

"Have you heard from at all these past three months?" Darcy inquired bluntly.

"No," she answered, shaking her head sadly. "No, I-I haven't heard from him once in the past few months."

"Are you sure?" Darcy double-checked. "You're not just covering up from him, are you?"

"Of course I'm not just covering up for him!" Lisbon insisted. "I haven't heard from him, heaven knows that I've tried to get in touch with him. But he hasn't responded to any of my voice mails or my text messages."

"It must be hard for you," Darcy said sympathetically. "Not knowing where he is, or who he's with, or what he's doing."

Lisbon frowned. "Just a little bit."

"I think that you're worried a lot," Darcy answered. "Just look at yourself; you're not the same person without him around. You're thinner and you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

"Are you trying to get me to betray him?" Lisbon asked, suddenly on her guard.

"No," Darcy replied without blinking.

"Good," Lisbon said. "Because like I said, I haven't heard from him in three months. I have nothing to tell you about him, no confidences to betray."

"Okay," Darcy said sighing. "But if I find out that you're lying to me Agent Lisbon, there will be consequences."

Lisbon shrugged. "I have nothing to worry about."

"Agent Lisbon," Darcy said. "You will try and get in touch with me if you do hear anything from him?"

Lisbon froze, not exactly sure how to answer her question. Mostly because she knew that the FBI agent was trying to prove that Jane was one of Red John's disciples, and she didn't want to have any part in bringing him down.

"Agent, I need an answer." Darcy prodded, looking at her expectantly.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to help you. I don't think Jane's going to be coming back, and I definitely don't think he's going to try and get in touch with me. If he wanted my help, he would have asked me for it by now."

Darcy nodded. "Okay, but if it happens that you can tell me anything. . . _anything_ at all, just let me know."

"Of course," Lisbon said, nodding in return and tagging a _not_ to the end of her sentence. "Can I walk you out Agent Darcy?"

"It's fine, I can see myself out," Darcy replied. "Have a good rest of your day."

_I'll try_, Lisbon thought as she faked another smile and nodded in reply to the other woman's comment. "You too," she said.

When Agent Darcy had disappeared, Lisbon realized that her head had started to throb painfully. She poured a large cup of coffee and found a bottle of Advil, taking a couple of capsules to ease the ache in her temples.

She sighed deeply and rested her forehead on her hand, closing her eyes for a second and trying to figure out what to do next.

"Boss?"

Lisbon looked up and saw Van Pelt looking at her with tentative concern.

"Yes Van Pelt?" She asked, straightening her shoulders and taking another sip of coffee.

"We just got a call," Van Pelt answered.

Lisbon felt a momentary rush of panic, her mind going to Jane immediately. She cleared her throat and tried not to let her emotions betray her. "Is everything okay?"

Van Pelt frowned and then shrugged. "A couple of teenagers were found dead under the bleachers at a local high school. They're saying that it looks like a suicide pact, but the police still want us to go down and have a look, just in case—"

Lisbon nodded. "Get Rigsby and Cho, meet me in the parking lot in five minutes."

"Actually, they sent me to get you," Van Pelt said. "They're already in the parking lot, waiting for us."

"I'm sorry; I got caught up in talking to Agent Darcy—"

"It's okay," Van Pelt interjected. "We saw."

Lisbon paused a beat, waiting for Van Pelt to ask what Darcy had been talking to her about. When she didn't, she cleared her throat. "Right, well let's get going then, we're wasting time just standing around."

"Are you okay?" Van Pelt asked almost timidly as she followed her boss to the elevator.

"Of course I am," Lisbon answered, frowning at her question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Van Pelt shrugged instead of answering the question. "You just seem tired lately. . ."

"I'm fine," Lisbon assured her half-heartedly.

"Okay," Van Pelt said quietly, knowing better than to press the subject further. It would probably just wind up irritating her, and the last thing the red headed wanted was to make her boss angry.

"Really Van Pelt, you need to stop worrying about me," Lisbon said as she pressed the lobby button to the elevator.

"I'll try," Van Pelt replied as she crossed her fingers and smiled breezily.

Lisbon sighed wearily and rubbed her temples. "I just wish that I would hear back from Jane."

Van Pelt's eyes widened slightly, and she knew that Lisbon didn't realize she had spoken aloud. She cleared her throat and didn't reply, the thought hadn't been directed at her in the first place, and she knew it wouldn't help anything if she did reply. Besides that, she really had no idea what to say that would comfort the older woman. She didn't even know if Lisbon wanted any comfort outside of the comfort only Jane would be able to give.

So, she kept quiet and hoped for boss's sake that Jane was okay, wherever he was. Because if he wasn't, she was sure Lisbon's already cracking walls would crumble completely.

**.**

Lisbon looked everywhere but at Van Pelt. She was embarrassed that the younger agent was able to see that something was wrong. She should have tried harder to keep a check on her emotions; it seemed like everybody knew what she was thinking and feeling these days.

She wasn't a paranoid person, but there were times that she was sure people were talking about her. It wasn't anything new; her name had been linked to Jane's since he had started to work at the CBI. This time it just mattered more, because they were talking about how he had broken her heart.

It wasn't true.

Not really anyways.

She just felt empty, like a half without a whole without Jane around.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**I guess the last part was sort of from Van Pelt's POV. I feel like this chapter was all over the place, that it wasn't executed very well. But I'm not going to beat myself up about it, unless you didn't like it. Click the review box and leave your thoughts, **_**gentle**_** criticisms are welcomed and even used to improve my writing. **

**Yesterday, I went to get my blood drawn (I'm fine, it was just routine stuff because I'm in my twenties), while I was in the chair getting my blood drawn, I almost passed out. The nurses had to keep checking my eyes (to see if they were dilated, and not because I was in lust with somebody), while they helped me sip Sprite and held an ice pack to my neck and side. To make a long story short, it wasn't the best day yesterday. I had a shaking fit in Dunkin' Doughnuts because I was SO cold, and I spent the rest of the day on my father's chair, shivering under covers and watching television. I'm actually still feeling a little woozy today.**

**So, this chapter was REALLY rushed. I promise, I'll try harder with the last few chapters. I mean, I won't be getting my blood drawn for another year at least. **

**One last quick note before I go. A week from today, I'll be going on a trip. It isn't my trip home though. This is to meet somebody that I might be working for. I'll try and update while I'm gone, I have a flash drive that I'm going to bring. . .but I'm not making any promises to update, I don't want you to get your hopes up, just know that if I can, I will update. **

**Wish me luck, and if you're the praying type. . . please pray that I make the right decision about this job.**

**Until next time!**

**All my love,**

**Holly 7/25/12**

**P.S**

**The next chapter will be from Jane's POV, and I'm not having an easy time of it. BUT I do know the direction that I'm going in. I just hope it fits the flow of the story.**


	4. Chapter 4 I Miss You

**Shout-Outs: information specialist (for chapter 1), lisbonandjanealways, Frogster, AngryLittlePrincess, CookiesForMe, Donnamour1969, Lothlorien Aeterna, kbcountry37, and xXxStarGazerxXx. **

**Thank you for all of the reviews on the last chapter; I was stunned by the support for my last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, I would be relatively wealthy and not living in the redneck part of town. In fact, I think I'd be living in the Cape Cod.**

**Author's Note I:**

**I'm still going to be posting Jane/Lisbon stories. I really don't care what anybody says about the brother/sister thing. I have a brother and I know better how siblings act. We don't act like Jane and Lisbon.**

**And now that I've gotten that mini-rant off of my chest, we're onto the story.**

**Holly, 8/1/2012_**

**.**

**Chapter 4**

_Don't waste your time on me_

_You're already the voice inside my head_

**I Miss You, Blink 128_**

His stomach growled violently as his nose was assaulted with the smell of buttermilk pancakes and fried bacon. He hadn't eaten very much in the past week and his hunger was finally starting to get to him.

A girl with a black leggings, a nose ring, magenta colored hair, and a cross tattoo peeking out of her bright pink polo shirt came over to him. After taking in his split lip and his mussed hair, she raised one finely arched eyebrow.

"Eating alone again?" She asked sympathetically.

Jane sighed slightly, his thoughts wandering to Lisbon for just a brief second. "Eating alone again Cherie."

"There's room at the counter," Cherie said.

Jane nodded and took his customary place at the counter, nodding to the older gentleman that was sitting two chairs down from him, puffing away at a cigarette and nursing a glass of diet Coke while he read a thick novel.

He nodded in return and then turned his attention back to his book.

"Mr. Jane," Cherie said, shaking her head and coming over to him with a cup of tea and a wet paper towel.

"What is it?" He asked even though he knew what the younger girl was going to say.

She dabbed at his lip gently. "You need to stop getting into fights; you're starting to look a little worse for the wear."

"You need to stop worrying about me," Jane answered, taking the paper towel from her and pressing it to his lip.

"Not gonna happen," Cherie replied, pulling out her ordering pad. "So, can I get you anything to eat tonight?"

"I'm not really hungry," he said as his stomach moaned in protest.

"It doesn't sound like it to me," Cherie agreed, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Isn't there somebody else you can bother?" Jane asked.

"Nope, you and Pete are the last customers of the day. You know that," Cherie answered, glancing at the elderly gentleman.

"I'll just have some whole wheat toast, thank you."

Cherie looked disappointed, but she nodded as she tucked her pen and pad of paper. "Whole wheat toast, coming right up."

Jane sighed as she disappeared into the kitchen and turned his attention to the television set that was playing quietly in the background. As was usual, Cherie had it tuned to one of her favorite shows.

He watched bemusedly as a pretty blonde-haired girl and a goofy looking black-haired man embraced kissed each other, the television was too low to hear what they were saying. But he caught snatches of their conversation.

"_. . .I'm never letting you go—"_

"_. . . I don't want to mess this up—"_

"_. . .We're done being stupid—"_

Jane's stomach dropped for some reason as the last sentence hit his ears and he snatched up the remote control, changing the channel quickly.

"Hey, I was watching that!" Cherie said, frowning at him as she dropped a plate of toast and a bowl of butter and assorted jams in front of him. "Why did you. . . are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Jane answered, putting the remote control down and taking a bite of toast without putting anything on it.

"You don't look 'fine'," Cherie replied, frowning at him again.

"Really, I'm fine!"

"You're thinking about _her_ again, aren't you?"

"Cherie, I told you that there isn't any _her_!" Jane answered, almost choking on a piece of toast before taking a sip of tea to help it down his throat.

"There has to be _somebody_ though!" Cherie said. "Do you know how many times that I've seen you looking at your phone and pressing end button?"

"Telemarketers," Jane told her.

"You always look disappointed when you press the end button—"

"Cherie," Jane said. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Did she break your heart?" Cherie asked.

In the four months that Jane had been occupying the diner, he had picked up that the twenty-something-year-old always wanted life to either be like a soap opera, trashy novel, or a sitcom.

_No, _Jane thought. _I'm pretty sure that I broke her's though._

"Well?" She insisted. "_Did_ she?"

"Did she what?" Jane asked, looking at her.

"Break your heart!"

"No," Jane replied, shaking his head. "Nobody broke anybody's heart and there isn't any girl."

Cherie rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Hey Pete! Want some more diet Coke?"

Pete shook his head, his face still buried in his novel.

"He's probably almost done for the night," Cherie said to Jane as she checked her watch. "It's getting on one 'o clock! I get to go home soon. Are you finished up for the evening?"

Jane nodded and threw a five dollar bill on the counter before leaving without another word to Cherie.

"Goodnight Mr. Jane!" She called as she watched him leave.

**.**

He unlocked his hotel room door and removed his jacket, throwing it aside carelessly as he made his way to the minibar and pulled out a tiny bottle of Scotch. He downed it in one gulp and then grabbed another one, taking it with him to his bed.

He switched the television on and unscrewed the cap on his bottle of alcohol as he flipped past reruns of various television shows that brought up memories too painful to face every time he watched them. He landed on a random channel and put the remote down, his thoughts drifting back to the conversation he had had with Cherie.

"_You always look disappointed when you press the end button. . ."_

She didn't know how right she was. He _hated_ ignoring her, he _hated _not replying to her text messages and her voice mails. But he knew that if he only heard a little bit of her voice. . . read her pleading words that he would lose all his resolve and return to her without giving one single thought to the plan that he had made to finally catch Red John.

It was bad enough that he could still hear the sound of her voice in his ears, that he could still see her face in front of his. It was bad enough that in the past four months of being away from her, she had begun to haunt his dreams.

And they weren't always nightmares either, sometimes she would join Angela and Charlotte in the master bedroom of his Malibu mansion, she'd be torn to shreds, her toe nails polished in her own blood. He would wake up, drenched in sweat, his heart racing a hundred miles a minute as he groped for his cell phone determined to call her just to hear that she was actually alive. But he would change his mind even before he hit the send button, telling himself that if anything had actually happened to her, then he would hear about it on the news.

But more often than not, his dreams were ridiculously good dreams that took place in a world where Red John didn't exist and they, for some unexplainable reason, were completely and utterly in love with each other. In those dreams, she would be lying next to him in bed or on a beach somewhere, breathing gently in his ear, lulling him off to sleep. Those were the nights that he would wake up reaching for somebody who wasn't there and fighting the urge to call the front desk and have them bring him an extra pillow. Those were the nights that he'd get out of bed and go for long walks or swims, convincing himself that there was no way on earth that he loved Teresa Lisbon.

But where his mind was convinced that it was true, his heart wasn't. Every time he woke up from a good dream about her, every time he got a text message from her, or thought that he was close r to catching Red John, which would bring him inevitably back to her, his heart would give an incredible thump.

It had taken a whole lot of booze and a faked breakdown for Jane to realize what he had known since the first moment that he and Lisbon had stopped butting heads and became friends. He felt something for somebody again.

It was just his luck that when he realized it, that person was miles away from where he was.

He looked down at the still full bottle of vodka in his hand and placed it on the night table before shutting the light out. The glow of the television illuminated his room and he forced himself to think of anything but Lisbon.

She wouldn't budge though. She stayed in the forefront of his thoughts, a promise for tomorrow, his one good dream in the midst of terrible nightmares, the only good thought to get him through the hell that he had created for himself.

His phone beeped, signaling that he had a text message. Jane picked it up, his thumb hovering over the accept button for a moment, before he sighed and shook his head, pressing the ignore button instead as he reminded himself that reading just _one_ text message from her could cause all the work that he had done in the past four months to erupt in his face.

He shut the television off, sent up a prayer to the God that he was almost certain didn't exist, and tried to get some sleep.

After three hours of drifting in and out of consciousness, he finally gave up on sleeping at all and slid off his bed. He decided it would be a perfect time for another one of his long, lonely walks.

**.**

That night he found himself in another casino, playing poker with another crowd of nameless faces. He tried not to feel bad about cheating them out of their money; he reminded himself that they were merely pawns in his game to catch Red John. He didn't have a right to care about them.

He shuffled the deck of playing cards and dealt them out methodically; blinking to get Lisbon's disapproving face out of his head as he stacked the deck in his favor.

The game began and the men he was playing with complained about their jobs and their girlfriends or wives as they smoked cheap cigars and drank cheap whiskey.

Jane concentrated on his hand of cards and didn't join in their conversation, not even when one of the guys started to badger him about his job and his wife. He merely grunted and wiped the man clean out of money.

The man gave him a dirty look, cussed him out, and then left the poker table without saying another word.

**.**

Jane watched as the last man left the table after handing over a couple hundred dollar bills. He counted up his winnings for the evening and sighed dejectedly, feeling even emptier than he had when the evening had started.

At least he had made it through the evening without irritating somebody so much that they ended up punching him. Which was a first for him, he had lost count of all the split lips, the bloody noses, and black eyes that he had gotten since arriving in Vegas.

He stuffed the money into his pocket and shuffled out of the casino, wondering how he had ever believed that money could bring him true satisfaction. In that moment, he would have gladly traded all the money he had just won to be see his wife and child just one more time, or to have a late night cup of tea with Lisbon while she did paperwork and he kept her entertained.

He unlocked his car door, thankful that Red John wasn't able to read minds, because his thoughts weren't the thoughts of somebody who was supposed to be having a breakdown.

As Jane drove away from the casino, he found himself hoping that the serial killer would make contact with him soon. Because for once in his life, he didn't think he would have the strength to see something through completely.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**Anyways, there's Jane's POV. At first, it was a struggle to write it, I had no idea what I was going to do or say until Wednesday night. I'm still not very sure about this chapter, there was a lot of stuff that I wanted to add – like the concept of Jane being tethered to Lisbon and feeling a pull to go back to her – but I just couldn't make it fit the way I wanted it to.**

**Chapter 5 should be up sometime later this week. In the meantime, why don't you click the review button and leave some feedback? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, especially since it was such a struggle to get into Jane's thoughts. I hope I made him a little more sympathetic (I mean, I'm pretty sure that he struggled with the distance. Did you see how happy he was when he thought Lisbon had posted bail for him?) and I hope that he came across a little tortured. Hey, I didn't want to make it easy for him. He did leave our favorite leading lady alone and worrying for six months, he deserves just a little bit of torture.**

**And the show Cherie was watching was "Friends" (The Last One, Part II, where Rachel gets off the plane.) **

**Until next time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 7/27/2012_**

**P.S**

**I realized that Jane establishing connections with somebody would defeat the purpose of his breakdown. So, here's a scene that I just couldn't make fit anywhere in the story without disrupting the flow of it. I am borrowing this idea from hardly loquacious's FABULOUS story "Long Lost, Long Last". **

**.**

**Deleted Scene:**

As Jane drove down the congested streets of the Las Vegas strip, he decided that he would skip going to the diner that night. He was trying to convince Red John that he was hitting rock bottom, and being a regular somewhere. . . having somebody who talked to him and looked out for him all of the time, wasn't exactly helping him get the message across.

At first, he had thought that Cherie was the person that Red John was using to establish a connection with him, so he kept going back to see her. But as the months started to drag out, he realized that he was wrong.

She wasn't a serial killer's lackey; she was just a friendly young woman, trying to make ends meet so that her kid would have food on the table and a roof over his head.

As he passed the little, 24 hour diner he hoped that Cherie wouldn't worry too much when he just stopped showing up. One day in the future, when Red John was finally out of the picture and things were back to normal, he would go and see her to explain everything.

For now, he'd just have to write one more person out of his life and hope that she would understand why he had done it when all was said and done.


	5. Chapter 5 I Get Along Without You

**Shout-outs: Guest, Lothlorien Aeterna, AngryLittlePrincess, Special Agent Baker, Miss Donnie, CookiesForMe, xXxStarGazerxXx, and Donnamour1969**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for the things that I do own. Which includes a brand-new copy of "10 Things I Hate About You". . . I know what you're thinking, and you're right. It's because of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Heath Ledger isn't so bad either.**

**. **

**Chapter 5**

_I said that I get along without you very well_

_Of course I do_

_Except perhaps in spring, but then I should never ever think of spring for that would surely break my heart in two_

**I Get Along Without You Very Well, Nina Simone_**

"Eating alone again Agent?"

Lisbon looked up from her bowl of chicken noodle soup and smiled sadly at the young woman looking down at her. She sighed and picked at the stale Saltine cracker resting on her paper napkin.

"Yeah Miranda, it's just me again tonight."

"You still haven't heard from him yet?" Miranda asked, frowning. "That doesn't seem like him. . . he always comes back—"

Lisbon sighed and pushed her bowl of soup aside. "Well, not this time."

"How are you holding up?" Miranda asked as she cleared away the unwanted food.

Lisbon waved her hand dismissively. "Why does everybody keep asking me that? There's no reason not to be holding up well. We weren't dating or engaged for crying out loud. We were just co-workers. . . he closed cases. That's all."

"Just co-workers?" Miranda repeated, frowning again as she shifted slightly in her high heels and adjusted the tray that she was holding. "Agent Lisbon, I know I'm probably overstepping a huge boundary here, but you were more than _just co-workers_. Everybody here could see it—"

Lisbon got a far off look in her eyes as she stared into her cup of cold coffee. "Could you bring me some tea Miranda?"

"Um. . . sure," Miranda answered, not at all puzzled by the strange request. In the past four months, the petite brunette had come in late at night and ordered a cup of coffee only to order tea after a couple sips of the brew. "Be right back."

The blonde waitress disappeared, leaving a trail of musky perfume in her wake.

Lisbon looked around the café, aside for her there were only two other occupants. A woman with bleach blonde and thin red lips, sipping club soda while she read _50 Shades of Grey_ and a man wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and thin glasses, typing furiously away at his computer with a glass of forgotten cranberry juice at his elbow.

She sighed and pulled a quarter out of her jacket pocket, slipping it into the jukebox on her table. She pressed a couple of buttons and an old Nina Simone song filled the air. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the tearing leather booth, trying to think about anything besides Jane.

She could hear him giving her a cold read of the other two patrons of the café. The woman reading _50 Shades of Grey _is most likely a housewife, discontent with her life but not brave enough to have an actual affair. And the man was a television writer, who liked the non-exclusivity of the little Sacramento diner.

"Here's your tea Agent Lisbon," Miranda said, startling her out of her thoughts as she placed a chipping white cup in front of her.

"Thank you," Lisbon said without opening her eyes as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug.

"Will that be all?" Miranda asked, tugging at her strand of faux pearls.

Lisbon nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"No problem," the younger woman answered as she put Lisbon's bill on the table before walking away.

The song ended and Lisbon opened her eyes, she looked around the diner and saw Miranda push a couple of quarters in the jukebox on the counter before slipping out of her black stilettoes and starting to clean up the diner before it closed for the night.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again as she raised the mug to her lips and took a long sip of her tea. When she had drunk the last few drops of liquid, she pulled her wallet out and dropped a few dollar bills on the table before waving wordlessly to Miranda and going out into the rainy night.

**.**

Lisbon dropped her keys on her coffee table and went over to her stereo player, pressing a couple of buttons before she fell on the couch and kicked her shoes off as the first few notes of a classical piece started to play.

She placed her cell phone on her chest as she threw her arm over her face to block out the lightening that was flashing through her living room as she tried to count sheep and get some needed sleep.

But the images of innocent little sheep morphed into Jane's face and she found herself peering at her cell phone through the nook of her elbow and willing it to ring. . . willing a text to come through and let her know that he was doing fine. All she wanted was some kind of word that he had found somebody to take care of him, or that he was thinking about her.

She waited a couple of seconds before reminding herself that Jane wasn't going to get in touch with her before dropping the phone on the floor as the familiar pain in her chest bloomed from a dull ache to a considerably noticeable one.

She hadn't been able to produce much of a broken heart when she had broken up with Greg, and she had been _engaged _to him. And here she was, longing for a man who had never made the Grand Gesture, who had never breathed a single word of love for her. Here she was pining away for a man who had only called her _friend_ in all the years that she had known him.

She sighed dejectedly and rolled over on her stomach, she wouldn't mind if he called her _friend_ for the rest of their lives, so long as he came back to her again. If he came back, she would let him call her anything that he wanted, she would be too happy to care.

"Please Jane. . ." she whispered aloud. "Please be okay. . . please come back soon. . . _please_. . ."

**.**

Around 4am, she gave up on sleep altogether and went to her kitchen to make some tea. She put the kettle on the stove before going to her cupboard and pulling out Jane's turquoise tea cup. She had stolen it from the CBI break room a few weeks earlier on pretense of keeping it safe from the other CBI employees. But the truth was, she had so desperately _needed _a piece of Jane, and that had been the one thing left of him.

She made her tea without really thinking about it and then slowly walked back to the living room as she sipped the liquid, barely tasting the Sleepy Time Vanilla she had prepared for herself.

Once back on her couch, she found her remote control and put the television on, blindly flipping through channels. She finally landed on a movie channel and absent-mindedly watched as a couple danced to a song by the Pretenders.

Lisbon powered down the television and threw the remote aside as she took another sip of tea. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how so much of entertainment could be so full of happiness and love when real life was so disappointing.

Outside, the rain storms started up again.

**TBC. . .**

**Author's Note:**

**Whew! I'm not going to lie, after the last chapter and the success of it, this was SO hard to write! I wanted to make chapter 5 as great as chapter 4 was. I'm afraid I failed, but oh well. . . I guess we can't have everything. I'd love some feedback!**

**Oh! And I got the job. I'm starting in two-three weeks. Thanks for everybody who prayed for me. I am so looking forward to this next chapter in my life.**

**Until next week.**

**Love,**

**Holly 8/8/2012_**


	6. Chapter 6 Solitaire

**Shout-Outs: Lothlorien Aeterna, Frogster, Special Agent Baker, CookiesForMe, xXxStarGazerxXx, and Donnamour1969 for reviewing chapter 6. Blueberry muffins and Earl Grey tea for everybody, unless, you're like me and you like hazelnut iced coffee with your blueberry muffin, then feel free to have some of that!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own anything except for the Carpenters' Gold album, a cracked iPod, and a Smash journal with epic fangirl pages of Michael Phelps, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and a soon to be added Prince William and Princess Katherine page (I'm an American girl in love with their pics at the Olympics). **

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the late posting. I had a serious case of writer's block, because as much as I'd like everybody to do it, nobody really wants to sympathize with Jane. And things have been kind of stressful around here lately, so I'm not very sure about this chapter. . . my fingers are crossed. Oh! And Youtube "Solitaire" if you've never heard it before, you won't be disappointed. It screams Jane.**

**.**

**Chapter 6**

_There was a man, a lonely man_

_Who would command the hand he's playing_

**Solitaire, Carpenters_**

His fifth month in Las Vegas, he started to think he saw her everywhere he went. He would catch a the smell of cinnamon in a smoky barroom, the sleeve of her favorite leather jacket on a dance floor filled with scantily clad women, her laughter mixed in with dance anthems. When this happened, he would stop whatever he was doing and look around the nightclub or the casino to try and get a better look at her.

One particularly drunken night, he had chased a woman down that he thought looked like her and grabbed her by the arm. Only to spin her around and find himself looking down into gentle feather gray eyes, he had released her quickly and mumbled a quick _sorry, thought you were somebody else _as he turned away and went to the bar to order another drink.

He had honestly thought when they had been apart for five months that he would stop missing her so much. But it was quite the contrary, as each day passed he started to miss her more and more. It was getting to the point that if the feelings didn't stop, he was sure Red John would be able to sense it on him and his whole cover would be blown.

A loud clap of thunder jerked him out of his thoughts and brought him back to his hotel room. Jane sighed wearily and looked down at the solitaire game spread out in front of him; he pretended to contemplate his next move and then got to his feet as he swept the cards off the table with one fluid sweep of his hand before going over to the mini-bar and looking over what was left of his alcoholic beverages.

He selected a bottle of whiskey and ignored his turning stomach as he opened the bottle. He took a long sip of the drink and wondered how much longer he'd be able to handle the excessive drinking and the near starving himself. He was so tired, so hungry. . . so drunk most of the time that it was taking all of his bio feedback tricks to continue functioning in the way that he had in the weeks following up to the date he had put his long con into motion.

Jane took another sip of whiskey as rain started to pound on the roof above him. He thought about Lisbon for a moment and hoped that, if it were raining in Sacramento, she was safe at home and not chasing down leads or staying late at the office to fill paperwork out.

For a lingering, selfish moment he hoped wherever she was that she was thinking about him, and that she missed him as much as he missed her. If the way she had looked when the elevator doors had rolled shut were any indication, she was probably feeling much worse than he was.

He felt a stab of guilt and downed the last few drops of whiskey, wishing for the hundredth that he could have told her _everything_ before he had left. But she was a terrible liar, and to tell her anything could have had the potential to put them both in serious danger.

He tossed the empty bottle in the trash and raked his fingers through his hair before yanking his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the blank screen for a long minute. It was the time of the day where he was so drunk and his inhibitions were so low, that he contemplated deleting every single one of her text messages (or reading them). But then common sense would kick in, and he wouldn't do anything. He didn't want to read them, because if he read them, he might as well give up his whole long con and go home. But he didn't want to delete them either because if he deleted them then he would be losing the only link that he had to her.

Jane put the phone away, and slid to the floor as he toyed with the cards that had scattered across the floor. He picked up the queen of hearts, she looked up at him almost reproachfully and he sighed before flicking it under the table with the rest of his mess.

He tipped his head back and stared at the ricotta cheese ceiling as the effects of the alcohol overtook him and he drifted off into a troubled, dreamless sleep.

Jane woke up an hour later with his stomach turning and the room spinning around. For the first time since he had arrived in Vegas, he felt seriously sick. He barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up what little dinner he had eaten. He moaned and started to clumsy pull off his clothes until he was shirtless. He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain and fought down another wave of nausea. Lisbon's face morphed with that of the reproachful queen of heart's flashed in front of his face and he shook his head violently, trying to get her out of his head as he vomited again.

He closed his eyes and wished for everything to be over as he bent his head over the toilet for round three of sickness.

**.**

Late the next day, there was a loud knock on his hotel door.

"Come back later!" Jane called wearily, barely lifting his head up off the table.

The lock clicked and the door propped open. "You need to get out of bed."

Jane peeked at her from under the covers and shook his head _no_.

"But I need to change the bed linens—" The young Hispanic woman started, giving him a no-nonsense look.

"Not right now," Jane answered.

"Do you just want me to come back later on when you're feeling better?"

"That's what I said earlier, isn't it?" He replied, rolling over on his stomach and closing his eyes again.

"I don't know, I couldn't hear you with the door closed," she answered.

Jane nodded as he started to drift off. "Later. You can come back later. Right now all I want to do is be alone."

By evening, he was feeling considerably better and as he got ready to go out for the night, he concluded that he had probably caught the stomach bug that had been floating around his hotel for the past week. Because he hadn't ever gotten sick from drinking too much, he had always been the one that all of his friends had admired for being able to hold his liquor.

Still, he decided that it wouldn't be such a bad thing to keep his drinking to a minimum. . . just for tonight.

**TBC. . . **

**Author's Note II:**

**This chapter was a HUGE feat to write. I don't even like it, and I won't blame you guys if you hate it as well. My friend, Just Mosie, likes to say that my writing has probably been impaired by the gorgeous Joseph Gordon-Levitt these days. And she's right, I **_**have**_** been thinking about him. . . **_**a lot**_** these days. But I honestly don't think it's impaired my writing in anyway, actually he's kind of been an inspiration to me. Especially with a certain music video that he made with Zooey Deschanel. . . anyways, fangirling aside, I hope you'll review and give me your honest opinion. I know it's a little short, but I did try. This chapter wanted to go in a million different directions, so I just stopped forcing it after a while and let it take the lead.**

**It was probably a mistake. But oh well, what can you do?**

**Oh, and to get ready for this chapter, I probably played about a gazillion games of solitaire. So, that most likely didn't help my writing very much.**

**Next chapter is the last chapter from Lisbon's POV, because the last chapter will probably be from both Jane and Lisbon's POV. Hope you stick around for the final scenes.**

**Love you,**

**Holly, 8/16/2012_**


	7. Chapter 7 In My Place

**Shout-outs: CookiesForMe, Frogster, xXxStarGazerxXx, Special Agent Baker, and Donnamour1969. . . thanks for reviewing guys, made my day.**

**Author's Note: **

**Well, I'm posting this a bit early. Work is starting in less than eight days, and I want to have this story completed before I get too caught up in real life. Oh, and one more thing. . . one song that got me through the spoilers and everything else back in March-May was "See You Again" by Carrie Underwood. It's a really pretty song and it screamed Jane/Lisbon for what I thought was going to happen (and did happen in 4x23), check it out!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own the characters, and I'm not affiliated with anybody who does. I just play in Bruno's sandbox, it's nice there. **

**Chapter 7**

_I was lost, I was lost_

_Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed. . ._

**In My Place, Coldplay_**

Jane watched from a dark corner as Lisbon left the interrogation room and leaned up against the glass, clutching the file to her chest as she took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. He could tell that she was shaken. . . _hurt _even from Lorelei's revelation.

Guilt filled him to his very core and he wanted nothing more than to throttle Lorelei Martins for her calculated slip of the tongue. He could have gone the rest of his life without telling Lisbon what had happened between him and the cocktail waitress in the dingy hotel room earlier that week. He had wanted to pick up right where they had left off, and now that she knew what he had done, he was almost positive that she would never look at him the same way again.

He sighed deeply and closed his own eyes as his self-loathing returned full force. He was seriously beginning to wish that Vegas had never happened, aside from Lorelei's arrest, the whole thing had turned out to be a complete and utter waste of time.

When he opened his eyes again, Lisbon had disappeared from his view. She had probably sought refuge in her office, locking the door and closing the blinds behind her. Today, she would want nothing to do with him. And he couldn't blame her. . . not after everything he had put her through in the past six months, and Lorelei too.

**.**

Lisbon felt completely and utterly numb as she tried to process what had exactly happened. He had slept with her. . . he had slept with the doe-eyed, pouty, tanned, husky-voiced Siren. And she had called him _lover_, a term that indicated their affair had been going on for a long time.

Her blood ran cold at this thought, and she truly hoped _that_ wasn't the case because it would make _everything_ she had allowed herself to go through in the past six months so terribly foolish. She already despised herself as it was for feeling the way that she had while he was away, she couldn't bear to add salt to the wound.

She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind, but it was a tangled mixture of _love yous_, _lover_, and the way her whole arm and hand had tingled when Jane had touched her in the desert. She was a mess, and the thing that tripped her the most was she knew that if he asked her – even if it were in the wrong way – she'd forgive him, even this.

**.**

"Stop pacing or you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Cho said to Jane without looking up from the novel he was reading.

"She's been in there for hours Cho," Jane replied. "With the door locked—"

"She doesn't want _you_ to bother her right now," Cho answered, not really wanting to get involved with Jane and Lisbon's complicated issues. But he knew that if he _didn't_ then things were going to be miserable for everybody on the team. He marked his place and sighed, "Listen Jane, you know it's going to take a lot more than fancy coffee drinks and flowery apologizes to make it up to her this time, right?"

"Of course I know that!" Jane replied. "But I just need to talk to her and try to make her understand—"

"Just give her some time and she'll come around," Cho said. "She always does. But if you want to make it up to her, it's going to take a lot more than fancy coffee drinks and flowery apologizes."

"You said that."

Cho grunted and turned back to his book, then looked up at Jane again. "Listen Jane, I'm not too happy with you at the moment, but I'm still going to give you some advice. You better fix things though. See, it won't bother me so much if you two are at odds, but Rigsby and Van Pelt are the sensitive type though, and they both really hate it when you and Lisbon aren't on speaking terms."

Jane sighed. "I fully intend to fix things Cho. I just don't know how to exactly. . . not this time around. I did some pretty awful things."

Cho smiled inspite of himself, forgetting to be angry with the consultant for a moment. "You'll think of something, you always do."

Jane was about to reply when Lisbon's office door opened and the petite agent stepped out of it, avoiding his gaze.

"Where's Rigsby and Van Pelt?" She asked.

"Rigsby went to Fresno to be with Sarah and Benjamin—'

"And I was just getting some coffee," Van Pelt said, coming out of the break room with a steaming cup in her hand. "There's a fresh pot if you'd like any Boss."

Lisbon shook her head. "I'm fine, really. I just wanted you and Cho to know that you could go home for the evening. We really don't have anything left to do today except ship Martins off with the FBI, and I don't mind sticking around to do that."

"I could just stay—" Cho started.

"No!" Lisbon replied. "Really, it'll be fine. . . you did a good job today, you deserve a break."

"You do too," Cho said, giving her a brotherly look.

"I'll rest when this whole mess is behind us," Lisbon said. "Don't worry about me."

"Cho's right, you really should get some rest. You're not looking so hot tonight," Jane interjected.

Lisbon looked at him wearily "Don't you have anywhere else to be Jane?"

Jane shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid that I _don't_ have anywhere else to be right now. So, you're stuck with me for the time being."

Lisbon sighed as she turned to look at Van Pelt and Cho. "I'll see you two tomorrow, okay? Enjoy your evening."

Van Pelt turned to look at Cho. "What's going on—?"

Cho shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I don't know. Whatever it is, it's between Jane and the Boss."

The red-head looked at Jane, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Don't worry about it Grace," he said, his own eyes on Lisbon's office. "I'm going to take care of it."

"Good luck," Cho said sincerely. "You ready Van Pelt? I'll walk you to your car if you are."

Van Pelt nodded, grabbing her purse and coffee mug. "Thanks. You'll be here tomorrow Jane?"

"I'll be here tomorrow," he assured her, offering a friendly smile.

"See you then," she said, giving a small wave as she followed Cho to the elevator.

When he was alone, Jane slowly made his way to Lisbon's office. He stopped in front of the door, hesitating a moment before raising his hand and knocking on the glass.

"Go away Jane!" She yelled.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Guess what, I don't _want_ to talk to you right now!" Lisbon replied. "I really wish that you'd just respect that and go hide in your attic or something."

"Listen, I know you're angry with me and I don't blame you, right now I'm pretty angry with myself. . . I just—" he paused for a moment, fighting off the desperation in his voice. "I just wish that we could talk. . . that you'd let me make the past six months up to you—"

Lisbon yanked the door open and looked at him sadly. "Just go away Jane. I-I really can't deal with you right now."

Jane rubbed a hand across his face, all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her. But he didn't dare, not with things so strained between them. "Listen to me. . . just for one second, please—"

"No," Lisbon answered, shaking her head and avoiding his eyes as she started to close the door. "Not right now."

"Then _when_?" Jane asked.

"I-I don't know," she replied. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well I am too," he replied quietly as the door shut in his face. "You don't know how sorry I am."

**.**

Lisbon opened the blinds halfway and watched as Jane retreated to the break room, a slump in his shoulders. She wanted so badly to follow him and let him explain everything to her in the way only he could. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, because there was another part of her that just didn't want to know. She was a strong woman, but even the strongest of women got to a point where they couldn't handle being hurt anymore.

Eventually, she'd be able to face it. Eventually she _would_ face it, because she had never run too far away from Jane before. She just needed a little bit of time to process everything.

After everything Jane had put her through, she didn't think that it was too much to ask.

**.**

Jane stared at the glass door for a couple of minutes before he turned around and started for the break room to make some tea. He searched around in the cabinets for a few minutes and found a crushed box of Earl Gray tea buried underneath a large bag of coffee.

He looked at it for a second and shoved it back in the cabinet; he had suddenly lost his desire to make tea. His eyes found Lisbon's office and he sighed, all he was really thinking about (aside from cracking Lorelei and _finally_ finding Red John) was a way to make everything up to Lisbon.

It was easy. He had done it dozens of times before.

**TBC. . .**

**Author's Note II:**

**So dear readers, we're coming to a close on this story. Just one more chapter left, and it'll be done. After this, I need to write something completely and utterly fluffy. I think I'm becoming depressed from all the angst that I've been writing/seeing in real life. I was watching Friends and 3****rd**** Rock From the Sun yesterday, and laughing. . . I always forget how good it feels to laugh. Then last night, I was watching the Katherine Hepburn version of Little Women on TMC. We were poking fun at it and having a good time. **

**So, after this story wraps, I'm going to write something so completely light-hearted, I might have to put a warning on it: IT'S SO FLUFFY, I'M GONNA DIE!**

**Anyways, I love hearing your feedback. Pretty please press on the little button and tell me what you think! **

**Love,**

**Holly, 8/18/2012_**


	8. Chapter 8 At This Moment

**Shout-Outs: AngryLittlePrincess, Frogster, Special Agent Baker, CookiesForMe, kbcounty37, xXxStarGazerxXx, and Donnamour1969 for reviewing the last chapter.**

**Author's Note:**

**I listened to "At This Moment" by Billy Vera and "Hold Me Now" by the Thompson Twins on repeat while I wrote this chapter. If you've never heard them, you can find both songs on Youtube. I'm hoping to have a mock soundtrack out for this story sometime this weekend, so look out on my alternative Twitter account (BeyesParker22) for the link to that. And as always, enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I own the first three seasons of the Mentalist, a ton of songs that remind me of Jane/Lisbon, and some ideas for Jane/Lisbon fan fiction. And today, I bought the first two seasons of "3****rd**** Rock From the Sun", which has nothing to do with the Mentalist whatsoever, I just thought I'd mention it. I don't own the Mentalist though, I wish I did. . . but it ain't gonna happen. Not with my salary.**

**Chapter 8**

_I'd fall down on my knees, kiss the ground you walk on_

_If I could just hold you again_

**At This Moment, Billy Vera_**

_**One Month Later**_

"This is getting ridiculous," Rigsby grumbled as he took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "He's been back for a month and Lisbon's been avoiding him like the plague. I thought that things would finally return to normal when he came back, but now they're worse than before."

"Give Jane _some_ credit Wayne," Van Pelt said, adjusting the strap of her purple dress. "He's honestly trying to make things right between them, it's just—"

"That the rumors Jane slept with Red John's promiscuous girlfriend are _true_?" Rigsby asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a gulp of his drink.

Van Pelt shrugged. "Well. . . I don't know. But what else could it be? The whole time he was gone, Lisbon was pining away for him like he had gone off to war, or something. The one thing she wanted more than anything else was for him to come back to her, and now that he's here she's only talking to him when its work related. Something just doesn't add up. He _had_ to have slept with Lorelei Martins; it's the only logical explanation. She had already forgiven him for leaving her alone without a word all that time."

"You two girls really need to find something better to do with your time," Cho said as he joined them, a glass of scotch in his hand. "I don't think either Jane or Lisbon would appreciate you gossiping about them."

Van Pelt blushed slightly. "We weren't _really _gossiping—"

"We were just _discussing_—" Rigsby began.

"Look, they're going through a difficult time right now," Cho interjected. "But they'll get through it, they always do."

"It's never taken this long before though," Van Pelt said in a small voice. "Things are usually patched up after a couple of hours."

Cho sighed as he looked around the hotel ballroom, looking for Jane and Lisbon. They were usually joined at the hip during CBI events as they laughed quietly at an inside joke or whispered about the other partygoers. It was a taboo subject, but everybody (excluding the pair themselves) knew that Jane was Lisbon's date at all of the CBI events.

Tonight though, they were at opposite ends of the room, clutching untouched glasses of champagne and both looking a little worse for the wear as they avoided each other's glances and ignored the other people around them.

Cho sighed as he downed his drink as he wished that Jane and Lisbon would just get their act together and stop being stupid. They were adults for goodness sake, not teenagers in high school.

**.**

Jane tried not to watch Lisbon tugging at the strap on her emerald green dress. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop himself from looking at her. She looked so beautiful and he missed her so much, he almost couldn't stand it.

Over the past month, he had tried so hard to make things right with her. But it didn't matter what he did, she would just look at him sadly and walk away, leaving him feeling even more hopeless than before.

He was beginning to think that she'd never forgive him for what he had done. He couldn't say that he'd blame her if that were the case, but he couldn't imagine a life without her, or her steady friendship. She was inches away from him, but things felt worse than they had when he had been in Las Vegas.

Then again in Vegas, he had still had the promise of her friendship to return to. . . these days, he literally had _nothing_. Lisbon only talked to him when she had to, and even then she got out of it, sending Cho or Rigsby to give him orders.

He sighed and looked down into his glass of champagne; he knew that he was a selfish person but he couldn't handle it anymore. He needed Lisbon back and it needed to happen thirty days ago. He looked over at Lisbon and sensed she was about to take flight, he downed his drink in one gulp and then put the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray before moving to stop her.

**.**

"Where are you going Lisbon?" Jane asked, blocking her way as she tried to escape the stuffy ballroom.

"I'm tired Jane. I'm going home," Lisbon replied, avoiding his eyes.

"Not yet!" Jane said. "You can't go home right now. . ."

"Why not?" She asked, finally meeting his eyes as she raised her chin defiantly.

"Because. . . we haven't danced yet," he answered quickly.

"You never dance at these things Jane!" Lisbon exclaimed, trying to push past him. "And besides that, I _don't_ want to dance with you! Now if you'd excuse me, I'd really—"

"Lisbon!" Jane latched onto her wrist and whirled her around to face him.

"_What!?"_ Lisbon asked. "What do you want Jane?"

"I _want_ for things to go back to the way they were seven months ago," Jane answered. "I want you to. . . forgive me for leaving you without any explanation and for not telling you about Lorelei myself. It wasn't fair for you to find about it the way you did. If you don't forgive me tonight, I'm going to keep trying until you do, because I miss you Lisbon. And I need you. . . please say that we can be friends again."

Lisbon hesitated for a moment as their eyes met and she really looked at him for the first time in a month. She saw the same loneliness, the same sadness in him that she saw in herself whenever she looked in the mirror. She took a deep breath and chewed on her bottom lip before releasing a shuddery sigh.

"Jane—" she sighed again, she was tired of avoiding him, tired of the tension that had risen up between the two of them. "We can still be friends."

"And you do forgive me for. . . everything?" He asked releasing her wrist.

"Yes," Lisbon answered, not telling him that she had forgiven almost immediately. If she told him that, she would have to explain the reason she had put distance between them, and she wasn't ready to open that particular can of worms quite yet. She didn't think he'd be ready to hear it.

Relief filled Jane's face and the first genuine smile that Lisbon had seen from him in a month lit up his face. In fact, Lisbon would swear that he was almost looked like he was shaking with relief.

Silence ensued, the only thing they could hear was the voices coming from the party and a bad cover of an old eighties song as they looked at each other, silently asking the same question. . . _what now?_

"Jane," Lisbon finally said. "How about lunch?"

**_The End_**

**Author's Note II:**

**And as Guy Fieri says "**_**that's all she wrote"**_**. Or is it? I'm not making any promises, but I think there's room for a sequel here. I'm sure there are going to be some people who agree with me. **

**Now that I got that out of the way, I just wanted to say that this chapter didn't go exactly the way I planned for it to. And I had lots of plans for it, but once again my Muse wanted to take over and I had to follow her lead. Believe me, I'm wicked disappointed with this ending. . . I just hope that you aren't. Tell me what you think. And thanks for being awesome readers, your support for this story was amazing.**

**Until next time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 8/23/2012_**


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